


The misery's killing me slowly

by crookedspoon



Series: JayDick Flashfic [9]
Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e08 Jericho, M/M, POV Jason Todd, Penis In Vagina Sex, Roof Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Timestamp, Trans Jason Todd, Trans Male Character, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 20:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21344527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: He is no longer falling, his feet are firmly on the ground, but his mind hasn't caught up with his body yet.Or, the one in which Jason contemplates to end it all, but instead has unfulfilling sex with Dick on the roof.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: JayDick Flashfic [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1274147
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108
Collections: Jaydick Flash Fanwork Challenge, crooked tumblr fills





	The misery's killing me slowly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salmonellagogo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmonellagogo/gifts).

> Written for "Dark Tone" from my transbingo card, "Fall" from jaydick-flashfic, and 6. "Do not be gentle with me." from [this tumblr prompt list](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/post/173683275805/sexy-prompts).
> 
> If you're bothered about certain terminology, the sex is not very explicit and the word "slit" is used. Just fyi.

Jason can still feel it: the wind in his hair, almost solid like a curtain brushing past him, whipping his cape about, as useless as broken wings, while gravity was pulling him down, down, and further down still, the dread in the pit of his stomach growing with every second he kept falling because with every second he kept falling he got that much closer to the ground.

He's heard it said before, that falling is not what hurts you, it's the impact at the end. Such a clever line, but here's the deal: a fall like that leaves marks on you, whether you land on your face or on your feet. 

A tremor still runs through his body, his legs are still weak, his stomach queasy. He can barely eat or even sleep. He's never before had to think about why the phrase is "falling asleep" and not "walking asleep" or something equally innocuous. Lying on his back, unmoving, is too close to the state of rest his body would have had upon impact. Curling up on his side helps with that, but not with the sensation of falling on the edge of sleep. That one has him sitting bolt upright in his bed again, panting and sweating as if he'd run a marathon.

It becomes a fixation, staring out his window across San Francisco bay. He's so high up, what keeps him from falling a second time?

_There once was a Robin who couldn't fly..._

Being tied up and deprived of his senses was nothing compared to that. He wasn't even afraid, even when Slade went rooting for the tracker in Jason's thigh. It was painful, but Jason can handle a little pain. He's not afraid of bullies.

He thought he wasn't afraid of anything.

Sure, he'd felt a prick of fear when Slade was sharpening that big knife of his in front of Jason, but he knew that was all show. Jason was a bargaining chip and only worth something if he was alive. So he'd get out of there eventually. In the worst case scenario, Dick and the others would come rescue him, in the best case scenario he'd manage to free himself. No big deal, right?

Right.

But when you're falling without a line, that's just it. There's no bargaining, no waiting around for an opportunity to sneak out or the rescue squad to show up. He knew there was no getting out of that one.

Jason was as good as dead.

Except that all of his lucky stars shone on him that night and somehow he did get out of it. With knees made out of jelly and too much adrenaline for his body to know what to do with, but he got out of it.

Physically, at least.

Emotionally, he's still falling.

Some people turn their life around after a near-death experience. Others never recover.

Jason has always considered himself to be strong. Able to handle anything thrown his way. He's done so far. But he's never had to deal with the inevitability of his own death before. It's one thing to know you'll die one day and quite another to be face to face with the fact that that day is now.

Or should have been, anyway. All because he had to go out and prove he was ready. That he wasn't a liability. That Dick could trust him.

What did Jason expect? That he'd take down Dr. Light single-handedly? That Dick would finally be impressed with him? That he'd accept Jason and say what a fine Robin he makes? What bullshit.

Why the fuck does it even matter so much what Dick thinks? He's a self-absorbed, self-righteous asshole with a giant stick up his butt about what they can and can't do, and he makes Jason so angry with his fucking holier-than-thou attitude and his need to control everything.

Maybe if he'd come off his high horse long enough to show _some _sort of approval, some sort of acknowledgement that he didn't just agree to take Jason in and train him because Bruce told him to, maybe then Jason wouldn't have run headfirst into the first dangerous situation that presented itself.

All Jason wanted was to prove that he's more than just a big mouth, that he's worth the effort, worth the chances he's given over and over again. Because he's been given many, and he's fucked them all up. Adoptive families, teachers, cops even, they've all been nice to him, they've all given him the space they thought he needed to become that someone they knew he was capable of being. But he keeps disappointing each and every one of them.

Jason wants to stop being a fuckup. 

But it seems like he can't. It follows him like a curse. He breaks up families, makes teachers lose their jobs, cops lose their faith in his kind so they're not willing to offer the same help to another kid. The worst of it is when they look at him like they've always known that he was gonna disappoint them and he's only proved them right.

It's how the others were looking at him just now, disgusted, distrustful, validated in their opinion of him. Because he would have pulled pranks like that, right? Pranks that hit them where it really hurts? He's just that sort of person. Or that's what they take him for, anyway.

He can never escape his own shadow.

Does it even matter if he tries? Their accusations haunt him, replaying over and over in his head, even up here, where the wind should be blowing too strongly for him to hear his own thoughts.

Because that was the point, right? To come up here and not have to hear anything, not have to _think _anything for a while. To just be alone. Until he can stand to be in the same room with the others again, until he can live with their judgement again, the slowly spreading acid of their own toxicity.

It wasn't to stare out over San Francisco Bay, and feel that queasy tug in his gut again, with no window to bar his fall this time, wondering who would save him if he were to take that final step. Would they even bother? Probably not. Good riddance to a nuisance, right?

This is the lowest Jason has ever been.

There's no point in dragging this out any longer. They don't want him around? Fine, he'll do them the favor and get out of their hair.

It could be so easy to vanish from their lives. Just one step over the ledge, and that's it. No more Jason to worry about. In his mind's eye, he's already rushing to meet the ground, the wind ripping at his skin, adrenaline sparking through him, one last flare of life before it ends with concrete slapping him in the face. 

There have been low points in Jason's life, but never like this. He's always made it out, made it through, has always been stronger than this. But now he doesn't want the struggle anymore. It's been going on for so long, and it just doesn't _stop._

Jason does something he has always categorically ruled out: he gives up.

What can he say? A confrontation with your own death changes you. And not always for the better.

But Dick stops him. Just when Jason's resolve was firmest, Dick bursts through the door to the roof and stops him. That's a cosmic joke, right? To have Dick be there both times he falls. But in a way, it's a conclusion for Dick, too. Jason is just seeing through what Deathstroke started.

And because Jason is on a roll, and about to end it all, he does another thing he never thought he'd do: he opens up to Dick. He confesses all of it, about that dark side of his, that poison that ruins everything good in his life, how everything that's happened is his fault.

But you know what the fun part is? Dick doesn't even listen. Sure, he picks up the thread of who's to blame, shifting the guilt from Jason's shoulders to his own, but he doesn't _listen _to what Jason is telling him. Oh, so Dick is divulging a secret he has never shared with anyone else? Is Jason supposed to feel honored about that? Special, somehow? Well, he's fucking flattered, all right, but how the fuck does any of that make Jason any less poison?

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Jason asks, walking across the ledge to where Dick is sitting. "You come up here with your big speech and you expect everything to be okay now, because _you _can get rid of your guilt?"

"It's not like that," Dick protests, watching Jason's steps closely.

"Of course it is! You don't even care about what happens to me. All you care about is making yourself feel better."

"I want to help you, Jason." Dick reaches out his hand to Jason, but Jason slaps it away.

"Bullshit, you want the credit for saving the day."

Jason peers down the vertigo-inducing height of five hundred-something feet, feeling more spiteful than resigned now, when Dick tugs him off the ledge.

"We can get through this together," he says with his hands resting reassuringly on Jason's shoulders. Isn't that fucking cozy?

Jason pushes him away. "Why the fuck do you care all of a sudden?"

Before Jason can leave, Dick grabs his wrist and turns him around again. Jason has had it. With the advantage of surprise on his side, Jason sweeps Dick's legs out from under him. Dick goes down, but recovers quickly, immediately ready to block any kick or blow that might come. Jason gives him neither, of course. Instead, he slips onto Dick's lap and kisses him.

Bet Dick didn't see that one coming.

"What—?" Dick wants to know. Jason cuts him off.

"If you really want to help, you'll give me this," he says and kisses Dick again, grinding down on his lap.

He's prepared for Dick to throw him off any second, to show his disgust, to do anything other than keep this going. Maybe it's the precarious nature of the situation that makes Dick not want to aggravate Jason further, but in the end, it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter, because Jason has already given up. That's not something you bounce back from so easily. This? This is a consolation prize. A pity fuck, if Jason has his way. And he will. He must. There's no way around it. Rejection would be fatal. Jason doesn't know if he can go on if Dick doesn't give him _something._

Their kissing and fumbling has none of the eroticism that has laced every wet dream he's had of Dick before meeting him, and some frustrated ones after meeting him, too, when he could pretend that Dick would be thrilled to have a student eager to learn from him. It's a bare necessity. Fingers seeking skin, the solidity and warmth of another body, it's only a thread, but give him enough of it and he might be able to keep himself together.

Dick stops kissing him just long enough to ask, "What do you need?" 

And Jason doesn't know. _Everything _feels like too much too ask, feels too broken and needy, even though that's exactly what he is.

"I need you to fuck me," he says as bravely as he can, "and I don't want you to be gentle."

Dick searches his eyes, and Jason sets his jaw against the scrutiny. It doesn't feel like a win when Dick nods. Instead, it feels like Jason has cheaply manipulated him into something he might otherwise never even have thought of.

Not that Jason's going to stop now. Bad decisions, right? He's good at making them and at stubbornly seeing them through. His breath is ragged when he undoes Dick's fly. To his surprise, Dick is already half-hard. Jason is probably going to regret this later – if there is going to be a later – but he's going to regret it even more if he doesn't take his chances. And anyway, he's pretty much passed the stage of regret when he kissed him and asked him for that pity fuck. If Dick agreed to that, surely he won't mind Jason sucking his cock beforehand.

Dick's cock is hot and salty, and Jason is reminded once again that he doesn't really enjoy the taste, but the silky feel of Dick's skin makes up for it. Dick moans and brushes his fingers through Jason's hair as he grows harder against Jason's tongue. It's a good feeling, but it's not enough to make the pain go away, no matter how hard he tries.

He pulls off when Dick's cock flexes inside his mouth and avoids Dick's eyes as he throws a condom wrapper at him. Doing this in full daylight is fucking awkward, but Jason is hot and he is aching and he needs Dick to make at least _something _right.

Jason turns around, chest brushing the ledge as he tugs his jeans over his ass and braces himself for what comes next. His heart is beating thickly against his ribs, his throat is tight.

"You're—" Dick starts.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Jason demands, barely able to breathe. He just wants to get this over with.

"Deathstroke's son was like you," Dick says hoarsely, and then his hands are grasping Jason's hips, scorching his chilled skin, as he leans over Jason, his condom-wrapped erection pressing against the flesh of Jason's ass. "It's okay, I got you."

Until then, Jason hadn't noticed that he's been quivering. He quivers even more when Dick's fingers move between his thighs. "Does that mean you fucked him, too?" _Before you killed him?_

"He was a good kid," Dick says, fingers rubbing over Jason's slit, then slide inside him, and Jason grips the ledge harder. "He didn't deserve the way I treated him."

There's a fierce ache inside Jason's chest, sharp and twisted like a car wreck. It has nothing to do with what they're doing, and yet, it has everything to do with it. The jagged edges make it hard to breathe. So he doesn't. Not for a while. Not until the tip of Dick's cock is tracing the path his fingers have gone before, gathering wetness before lining up. 

"Still wanna do it?" Dick asks.

"Don't stop," Jason tells him. He is bending over the ledge, staring down forty floors to the street below.

Dick pushes inside on a ragged exhale and for a brief moment, Jason wonders if this is as rough on him as it's on Jason. If he'd prefer a 'no' from Jason.

Dick's panting is harsh and loud against Jason's ear as he slowly gains momentum. Jason doesn't know why it hurts so much, he never hurts this much. Physically, it's nothing but a mild discomfort that'll go away in a bit, but emotionally, Jason is scraped raw. Maybe because this might be the last kindness anyone will ever do for him. Maybe because Dick's not really doing it for _him._

Dick's hands grip Jason's waist securely, keeping him in place, as if worried Jason might tip over the edge any second. Jason can't say he hasn't thought of it. Darkly, Jason thinks he ought to have enough time to do up his pants before he reaches the bottom if he's not paralyzed with fear again.

As if Dick could read the general direction of this thoughts, he wraps his arms around Jason's chest, trapping Jason's elbows to his sides.

"I got you this time, Jason," Dick says as he fucks into him. "I won't let you fall again."

Jason wants to punch him, but no matter how much he writhes, he can't even elbow him in the gut. All he can do is take what he asked for and breathe through the pain. Fucking Dick, making this about his own guilt. Then again, it does make feel Jason a little less terrible about using him. Maybe Dick is using him, too. Maybe then Jason can even allow himself to come. Dick's cock feels good enough inside of him. If he concentrates enough, he can get himself there.

He comes soon after he starts touching himself. It's not a great orgasm, just a necessary one. The world around him mutes to a dull rush as he rests on the ledge, shoving his breath out through his nose in puffs, waiting for Dick to finish.

It doesn't take long. The surge of warmth from his own orgasm has subsided by the time Dick comes, stilling against him until the aftershocks ease off. He feels cold when Dick pulls out.

Dick must have noticed the shiver that wracked Jason's whole body, because he says his name and puts his hand on Jason's shoulder. Jason shrugs it off, without looking at Dick or acknowledging that he had spoken.

Jason was right. It was a fucking mistake to do this in full daylight. Too many hours left until nightfall for them to avoid each other and pretend this never happened. Not that either of them had planned this beforehand. It's not like Jason could have waited around downstairs any longer, among people who hate him and who demanded answers he couldn't give. Fuck, he doesn't want to go downstairs and face them again.

He does up his pants and pushes himself to his feet unsteadily. His knees hurt. It's a welcome alternative to the ache in his chest that's not quite so sharp as before. It's still there, but Jason is used to that. He'll just has to cope the way he usually does.

"I'll explain to them that it was my fault," Dick says to Jason's back, as if that would change anything about the others' attitude towards Jason.

Jason doesn't spare Dick another word or glance as he leaves him on the roof. It should be enough that Jason is using the door to go down.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Marigold" by Periphery.


End file.
